Forgotten
by ItzIzziieMonsta
Summary: [ONE-SHOT] Stiles Stilinski was sure he was important. He had to be right, didn't he? He had to be a memory worth remembering. Sure he was human, but surely he wasn't THAT human...Right?


**Forgotten**

Stiles Stilinski knew it was a risk, running with the wolves he claimed as his friends. But he had gotten through some tough times with them. The nogitsune, Peter Hale, the Darach, hell even Derek, Stiles would class as a threat. Stiles had been a big part of helping, or at least he hoped he was. Stiles thought he was important. He wished he was important. He was sure he was fairly important.

And then the Ghost riders came.

No one knew what they were at the start purely because no one knew anything was wrong. They had all forgotten it. But not Stiles, why? Because Stiles was the one who was forgotten which was the very problem in itself. Stiles, in his spare time while not having a panic attack, had used his clean slate and resources to find out just what the hell was messing with his friend's heads. What made them all, Malia, Scott and Lydia alike, to forget the plain existence of Stiles Stilinski ever.

Ghost riders. He could have laughed, honestly. The physical descriptions reminded him awfully of the lore in Supernatural when they were talking about the four horsemen. Stiles would have laughed. But he didn't have the patience anymore. They had done the worst thing they could ever do in Stiles' opinion. They had taken away his friends, his _family_ screw how small it may be! And. Honestly, Stiles was pissed and he knew he was going to do something. Oh, was Stiles going to do something all right; he was going to kick ass. But he needed to get his own memory under control first. And he needed to prepare for the worst.

Sitting down in the lumpy, rotting chair of the hotel room he had got for the night in Beacon Hills using some fake ID and stupid excuse Stiles couldn't really care for, Stiles pulled out the complimentary note pad and branded pen by the hotel themselves and started to write.

 _I'm Mieczyslaw Stilinski. Even I can't pronounce that, the closest I got was 'Mischief' and that's what my mom called me. So I called myself Stiles and others did too. I know, the last name is the Sheriff's and that's because I'm his son before the Ghost Riders came and he forgot me. My friend's did too._

 _You won't believe me. I can tell you that now, I know you won't believe me. So I'm going to prove it.  
Scott McCall, you're a werewolf. The Alpha your red eyes prove that. I know this is going to hurt but this is the only way I can prove this; your dad was an excessive drinker and fought with your mom, Melissa, a lot and your mom's a nurse or, according to my grandfather Elias, your dad cheated on your mom. He left the family for a reason that you don't know and the night before he left is a black out, you don't remember anything. You're still hurt and angry at your father, understandable. You had a dog called Roxy who died after protecting your against another dog. Finally, you had asthma (quite severe actually) before you got the bite from Peter Hale. You turned into a werewolf and this left off from there. You dated Allison Argent before she died due to the nogitsune a while ago. And it was my fault she died. I can explain that later.  
Lydia Martin, you're a banshee. You used to date Jackson Whitmore and you pretended to be dumb for him. But you have a genius level IQ, you're gorgeous and you're one of the smartest people I've ever met in my life. After Jackson left to London you were numb and had this kind of "love them and leave them" mentality then you got in a relationship with a boy called Aiden who you fell for and then he died himself. And you suffered and I hated having to watch that. You were also a close friend to Allison Argent before she died and that hurt you too. I won't tell you anything about you and me; it'll scare you away if I just told you straight even though when you did remember me you knew.  
I would write more but I don't have the time so I'm just going to do this. People in the McCall pack:  
-Lydia Martin: Banshee  
-Malia Tate: Werecoyote  
-Liam Dunbar: Werewolf  
-Mason Hewitt: Human  
-Dr. Deaton: Druid  
-Corey: Chimera_

 _I could put Derek on there but no one has seen him for weeks. Makes me wonder if he still remembers me because he's been away from Beacon Hills for so long he might have escaped the Ghost Riders._

 _One more way to prove myself. The nogitsune was because of me. Allison died because of me. I was the one to let the nogitsune into my head at a moment of weakness but it was no excuse and I'm sorry. I'm sorry I caused of all this pain and I never ever meant for Allison to get hurt. I still wish to this day that she never pushed me out of the way. I was the one who was supposed to die not her._

 _Okay, onto the juicy stuff._

 _Ghost Riders are, in lore, memory wipers. One look at them and the person who looked is erased from the minds and memories of anyone who have ever cared about them or anyone they have ever cared about. Thus, you can't remember me. I don't know if it's distance limited but I don't have time to test out the theory. I can feel my own memories slipping out of my mind, I don't remember half of the things I've written down on this paper in image rather than the actual words. I know you still won't believe me but please. Help me, remember me or at least try._

 _I'm Stiles Stilinski. I'm human and I was your friend. And I am_ _asking you,_ _I am begging you. Please help me. Please remember me._

Tearing the paper from its pad, he folded it being sure the edge was sharp enough to slice through wood and used the pen again to write instructions for himself on the front of the paper and the name of the people who were to read it. Placing it on the table, Stiles was sure it was in plain sight for him to come back to and see it first thing before striding off into the bathroom and standing in front of the mirror.

He splashed his face with the clean water that gushed from the tap and looked up, staring right into the familiar eyes of his haunted mothers in the mirror. Sighing, he braced himself using his hands to hold onto the side of the sink as he stared at the mirror.

"Okay," he sighed to himself and spoke with confidence. "My name is Stiles Stilinski. My girlfriend is Lydia Martin. My father is Sheriff Noah Stilinski. Scott McCall is my best friend." Taking a moment to take a breath, he tried again. "My name is Stiles…" But he trailed off, his confidence beginning to dwindle. "My name is St…is S-…My name…" And that's when he looked up again, a single tear rolling down his pale cheek as he looked upon the mirror with devastation and fear. "I don't know."

And Stiles Stilinski knew he was gone.  
Lost.  
Forgotten.


End file.
